


Odds Are

by TazzyGal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Season/Series 06 Spoilers, Season/Series 07 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TazzyGal/pseuds/TazzyGal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to juggle three kids you didn't sign up for while keeping up as a hunter can be challenging, but Dean Winchester is going to make a go of it.  </p>
<p>The trouble is, all the while he's trying to learn to be a good dad, RoboSam is making things weird for him, Crowley is letting being King of Hell go to his head, the demoness Meg has moved into the trailer next door, Castiel has decided he and Dean are going to be a couple (a couple of what, Dean doesn't know), and somehow the family inherited a Magical Healing Cock. </p>
<p>*Note - Ratings may change as story progresses and new situations arise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Struck By Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> It's been three years since I last wrote anything, and that was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fan fiction.
> 
> I'm trying my hand at Supernatural now given how much I adore the show. This story is going to probably look pretty bumpy - I've decided that it's most important to actually get the story down first, and then edit and make it cleaner later. Still, I hope that everyone enjoys reading my work and finds something positive to look forward to. 
> 
> This is a Season 6 canon divergence - Sam was not raised by Castiel. More than that I don't want to say just yet.
> 
> The title of the story - ODDS ARE - is taken from the Barenaked Ladies song of the same name.

“That baby isn't yours.”

“No kidding.” Dean didn't bother looking over his shoulder. He was too busy with Sir Squirmy. He'd bring the diaper one way and the kid went the other way. There had to be an easier way to get these things on a baby's butt, but somehow he didn't think either Sam or Cas would approve of him tying the brat down.

Castiel peered over Dean's shoulder at the baby lying on the motel bed. “If it is not yours, why do you have it?” he asked.

The baby, christened Bobby John in the heat of the moment, stopped his wiggling and stared up in wide-eyed fascination at Cas. His grunts of displeasure stopped. Instead, he cooed softly and balled his fingers up in a fist, then flexed them open – a little wave hello, Dean guessed. “Dude, stay right there,” he said. While the baby was preoccupied with Cas, Dean got the diaper up between the little bugger's legs and fastened the plastic tabs on either side. “Finally!”

He stood back and dusted baby powder off his hands. Cas and Bobby J. took no notice of him. Instead, the baby flapped his hand open and closed again. Castiel cocked his head to the left before mimicking him.

Bobby J. squealed in delight. Cas chuckled in response.

Dean glanced from the giant goof to the tiny one on the bed and decided that if they were mind melding, or whatever, then he was going to make good his escape, because there was a bar down the road that supposedly served this truly awesome strawberry-rhubarb pie -

Except apparently God still hated Dean, because Cas stopped bonding with the baby and got back into Dean's personal space again, which meant the pie was going to have to wait. “But why do you have it if it isn't yours?”

“Cas, buddy, you don't call babies 'it,'” Dean corrected, wincing slightly.

“It's a shape shifter,” Cas pointed out. “The child's gender isn't stable. It could be either male or female as it chooses. Calling it 'he' or 'she' seems rather presumptuous. We don't know what it'll decide to identify as when it's older.”

“Okay, first off, you don't need to get philosophical about the whole thing. The kid's a baby. He ain't gonna complain. Second off, 'it' is just plain rude.” Dean snagged the diaper bag from beside the bed and started re-packing it, and managed to get baby powder all over the place while trying to make it fit in the corner he'd gotten it from originally. It had taken him ten years, but Dean Winchester had mastered refolding maps into their original configuration. Repacking a baby bag couldn't be that much harder, could it? A little practice and he'd be a pro. If he had a reason to practice, that was...

“I still think it's more impolite to demand a child conform to gender norms without knowing what gender the child wants to identify as.” Cas sat down on the bed beside Bobby John and scooped the baby up. Bobby J. babbled happily up at the angel, waving his fists hello again. “I think it would be more appropriate to assume the child is gender fluid.”

Dean blinked up at Cas from the baby bag. “Gen who wah?”

“Gender fluid. Changes gender as it chooses.”

Dean could think of a few things John Winchester would have said about such an idea, but let them go without more than a passing thought. “Great, cool. Ask him when he's older. Right now, stop calling him 'it,' okay?” He sighed when he saw the stubborn look on Castiel's face and held up a hand, forestalling further argument. “Just... call him 'he' when he's a boy and 'she' when he's a girl, okay? How does that sound?”

Cas pursed his lips. Dean stifled a groan. The son of a bitch was a great friend but could be stubborn as a Chevy Nova with an oil leak – wouldn't budge from a subject without being physically shoved into a new topic.

Finally Cas said, “I'll concede your point for the moment, but I'll be looking into it further. I still think it's unkind to designate a child male or female if the child doesn't have a set gender.”

Dean zippered up the bag and dropped it on top of his duffel in the corner. He flopped onto the empty bed and glanced over at Cas. The angel and the baby cooed back and forth to each other. “Why are you so hung up on this, anyway?” he asked, before he realized he could be inviting Cas into a long, drawn out lecture.

Instead of the dreaded lecture, though, Cas said simply, “I'm neither male nor female, but I am constricted because everyone assumes I'm male, since my vessel is.”

“Huh.” Dean thought about it. In their relationship, he'd always treated Cas like how he treated his brother, rough housing with him, teasing him, even taking him to a whore house and buying the services of a busty blond for him. Granted, that little situation hadn't gone anywhere (except out the back door – quickly – to avoid the bouncers). A thought nagged at the back of Dean's mind. “So you don't see yourself as a guy?”

“Sometimes I do,” Cas said. He pressed his fingers into Bobby J.'s open palms and let the baby grip the tips tightly. “Angels have no set designated gender, and may change gender – or appear completely asexual – to suite their needs or desires at the time. When we experience communion with each other -” He gave Dean a raised eyebrow. “'Cloud seeding,' I believe you called it – we can assume either gender, or none at all. Prior to Jimmy, most of my earthly vessels were female.”

“Huh.” That was a new one, Dean thought. He considered his friend carefully. Nothing about Cas screamed “woman trapped in a man's body” to him. As a matter of fact, he remembered quite vividly how Cas had beaten the ever living snot out of him in a back alley when Dean had pissed him off bad enough. As much as he loved Jo and Ellen – and didn't thinking about them, even briefly, bring up a world of hurt that he quickly shoved down in its compartment again – Dean didn't think either of them would have ever taken him down as violently as Castiel had.

Then again... Say you didn't have the same upper body strength as somebody coming right at you. (That was the thing people always said, wasn't it? Women didn't have the same upper body strength as men?) Dean wasn't always as physically strong as some of the things he and Sammy hunted, right? So there were ways to work around that. Shot guns, martial arts, hell, even knowing what the monster was allergic to and shoving a fist full of that at it could make you look a hundred times bigger than something that normally would wipe the floor with you.

So maybe Jo and Ellen didn't act like they could take guys down with their bare hands very often. Dean never saw Ellen hesitate to drag out the shot gun whenever she needed to make a point. And Jo had been fast and slippery. She might not be able to take someone down with a single punch, but fighting her could be like fighting a rabid weasel – painful, frustrating, and not generally recommended.

Take Jo now and stick her in a body that was physically stronger than whoever was harassing her. She wasn't the kind of girl to ignore an advantage if she had one. If that meant pummeling someone, wouldn't she have done it, even if it wasn't the way women were “supposed” to fight?

Dean shut his eyes and thought about that fight between him and Cas again. Weren't women supposed to be dirty fighters compared with men? Fingernails gouging out eyes, hair pulling, biting and clawing, that sort of thing. Cas hadn't done that. He'd gone right in with both fists flying, pounding into Dean like a locomotive running down a copper penny.

Well, why wouldn't a girl want to punch someone sometime? There was that whole “body strenght” thing again. Women fought dirty because they couldn't throw a punch, right? So say a girl suddenly could throw a punch, and have it be lethal. Why shouldn't she want to?

So maybe if you put a being that sometimes liked to be a girl and put it – her? – in a male body, you got a frustrated chick who wanted to beat the brains out of the guys that were always pissing her off. That girl might act kind of like a guy, but maybe that was because she wasn't restrained by a woman's body, not because she was really butch or something.

He cracked open an eye and looked over at Cas. The angel bounced the baby on his knee, and they were still making weird sounds at each other.

Huh. So maybe Cas has a maternal side?

“Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

Dean wanted to ask if Cas wanted him to treat him like a woman, or wanted him to stop calling him “him,” or if Cas was regretting taking Jimmy as his vessel and would rather have jumped into a hot little waitress from the Golden Corral or something, but the whole subject was getting a little too weird. Dean didn't have any idea how he'd treat his friend if it suddenly turned out Cas wanted to do up his nails in neon pink and wear micro-mini skirts. Would it be weird? Dean could still be friends with Cas, of course, no question about that. He might have some machismo issues, but he wasn't the kind of asshole that freaked out about some guy having a crush on him. Of course, as soon as he thought that, the question popped into his mind – could Cas ever have a crush on him?

That was... kind of weird. Not BAD weird, just... weird. His ears felt hot all of a sudden. The blush was probably spreading across his cheeks even now.

Yeah, no. Now wasn't the time to be dealing with that strangeness. He had enough on his plate with RoboSam freaking him out regularly.

Instead he asked, “Why'd you stop by here, anyway?”

Cas stood up, hefting the baby onto his hip. “I need your help. There has been a rash of strange occurrences that would best be described as episodes of plague in small scale."

"Plague?"  Dean sat up.  "You mean like the Black Death kind, or more like when Pestilence let the Croatoan virus loose?"

"I don't mean sickness." Cas shifted the baby from his right hip to his left.  "I mean Biblical plagues.  Hoards of flies eating the flesh from bodies, streams running with blood, frogs -"

"I got it, I got it. " Dean waved him off.  

Castiel's brow furrowed.  He glanced down at the shape shifter infant, who bubbled up at him cheerfully.  "Dean, I have to insist on you explaining where you got this baby from and why you have it... him."  The angel looked like he swallowed a live slug, but he didn't call Bobby John "it."

Dean waved at Bobby J.  Bobby J. cooed and waved back.

For the past year, Dean and Cas had sporadic contact at best.  Cas tried to keep Dean in the loop while he was busy playing sheriff upstairs, and Dean tried to be there when he needed an ear while playing house on Earth.    

Point of fact, Cas had been an ear for Dean when things got dark and Lisa got intrusive.  It was nice to have a friendly warm body around when every time he closed his eyes he was treated to a front row seat at a viewing of Sam taking a swan dive into hell, but she didn't know when to stop asking questions.  She also didn't know to lay off when Dean needed a drink, not if he was going to function through the day.    

Cas probably didn't ask so many questions because he'd been riding shotgun with Dean into the black tunnel.  Hell, the guy had DIED, hadn't he?  Twice, if you wanted to get technical.  He was good to sit with and get drunk with,and add a bonus could carry Dean home after a bender, something Lisa couldn't handle solo.  

(To Dean's surprise, Cas and Lisa had apparently met after Dead had gotten shit faced once, and had begun a tentative friendship by talking about HIM.  He didn't begrudge them making friends, but he was a little uncomfortable being their main subject of conversation.)

Despite their occasional visits, Dean hadn't seen Cas in over two weeks.  He wasn't quite sure how to catch Cas up on the whole "Sam is back from hell" thing.  

A double knock followed by three raps saved Dean from having to explain.  "Hey, Dean, they didn't have any Mrs. Smith cookies but I got some double stuffed Ore-" Sam stopped mid-stride and gave Cas am incredulous look.  "Oh's," he finished.

"Get in here and shut the door, Sammy," Dean sighed.  

Having been confronted by Sam's miraculous return from the depths of hell, Cas did look a little surprised, but didn't seem in danger of freaking out.  He waited for Sam to kick the door shut behind him and set the bag of groceries on his bead before saying, "Hello."

Sam's brow furrowed deeply, his mouth dropping open in disgust. "Hello!" he mocked, mimicking Castiel's own deep rumble of a voice.  "That's all I get?  'Hello?'” Sam dropped the bag of groceries ungently onto the table beside the window and folded his arms across his chest. “I've been praying to you for a year and you never bothered to show up, and all of a sudden you're here playing house with Dean? You help him babysit and all I get is, 'Hello?' What, you like Dean better than me or something?"

"I was completely unaware of your prayers," Cas said, looking curious but sounding apologetic.  "Though I do admit that Dean and I do share a more profound bond."

Dean felt his ears going hot again.  Really? he thought, and shot Cas the hairy eyeball.

Cas raised one arm in a half shrug.  "I wasn't going to mention it."

Dean considered rubbing the freak's feathers backwards and decided against it. "Gimme the kid."  He held his arms out for the baby and took Bobby John, bouncing Bobby J. onto his left hip. 

Sam started to ask, "How much does he know -"

"The baby isn't yours," Cas interrupted.

Sam blinked at Cas.  "What?"

"I assume you're taking care of the baby with the understanding that the child is yours.  I thought it best to assure you that you are not the child's father. Since Dean assures me he knows that he isn't the father, the only logical conclusion I can come to, seeing that you're alive, is that you at some time were convinced you fathered the baby.”

Sam's face twisted in a grimace. Dean, in a fit of decency and kindness, held back the grin that threatened to break out on his face. “No,” Sam said slowly, “the kid's from a case, Cas. One I tried to call you for before I bothered Dean. You didn't answer.”

“A case?” Castiel frowned and looked at the baby in Dean's arms. “You say you've been resurrected for a year. During that time, you've been hunting?”

“Uh, yeah! Dude,” he shot Dean a dirty look. “Did you change the kid's diaper on my bed?”

“I sure as hell wasn't going to change it on mine, Sammy,” Dean said reasonably.

Sam glared at him before yanking the blankets off his bed and throwing them on the floor in a heap. He flopped down and turned his glare from Dean to Castiel. “What did you think I'd be doing for a year?”

Cas pursed his lips and said nothing. 

Sam narrowed his eyes at the angel. “What?”

“You don't seem to be exhibiting any of the symptoms I'd expect from someone who was raised from the Cage after an indeterminate time among Lucifer and Michael. In fact, you seem to be doing very well.”

“You sound like you don't like that.” Sam stood up again. Normally there was a slight slouch to his shoulders, a bend to his spine – the apologetic slump of the unusually tall. Dean himself did it sometimes, especially around kids, and he found himself doing it around Lisa more and more lately. Now he saw that Sam stood ramrod straight, towering over Castiel by a full head height. 

Add one more to the 'what the fuck is wrong with my brother' category, Dean thought. Sammy rarely used his height to intimidate anyone. He never tried to bully Dean, despite the elder brother being five inches shorter. Now he was getting his Hulk on in front of Cas. Dean felt completely uncomfortable, as well as unnerved. He didn't want a scene. He didn't want Sam to be acting like a thug. 

Come to think of it, RoboSam here had been getting more and more thuggish as the days went by. Dean shot Cas a look, hoping the archangel would have some idea what was making Sammy act so strange.

But the angel said nothing. He merely met Sam's eyes and held his ground, not the least bit intimidated. Having shiny new powers after being blown up – twice – had to make it easy to face down anyone, Sam Winchester included.

“It's an anomaly,” Cas said patiently. “I dislike anomalies. But I am glad to see that you're doing well. I'm surprised, though, that you were hunting alone for a year. Your strength was always in hunting in tandem with others.”

“I haven't been hunting alone.” Sam folded his arms again. “I guess you haven't told him anything then, huh, Dean?”

“I didn't have time,” Dean started, but Sam waved him off. 

“I've been hunting with family. The Campbells. Our mom's family.”

“And her father,” Dean put in. “Samuel Campbell.”

Sam scowled but didn't complain about Dean's interruption. “We think whoever brought me up brought him down at the same time.”

“That would take someone particularly powerful,” Cas mused. His eyes went far away, like he was tallying up possible suspects. “Not an average angel. Nor an average demon – it would take someone very skilled to draw a soul from Heaven without alerting the entire Host.”

“You have any ideas?” Dean asked. Sam started looking bored. 

“Not as yet, but I'll think on it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Great, fine, that's perfect. You think on it. Meanwhile, Dean and I are working on a case, and Samuel wants the kid ASAP.”

Dean tightened his grip on Bobby John, as if holding him tighter would keep him from being taken away. “The hell does he want with him?”

“Dunno, don't care,” Sam said with a shrug. “I just know he wants to see the kid before nightfall. I figure we can grab dinner and then drop the kid off at his compound, then be back and actually get some sleep for once.”

The slouch in Sam's shoulders never came back. Dean noticed, though he didn't think Castiel did. “No can do, Sammy.” Dean hiked the kid up higher in his arms. “Cas and I have a date, and Bobby J.'s coming along with us, right Cas?”

Castiel blinked at him. 

Sam's brow skyrocketed up to his hairline. “A date?”

Dean felt the blush creeping up his face and smiled in embarrassment. “Well, kind of a date. More like an appointment. Doctor's appointment. The kid needs his booster shots.” He felt a little flustered at the intensely annoyed look Sam was giving him. This wasn't the typical rise he enjoyed getting out of Sammy. Sam looked seriously pissed off. 

“Really, Dean?” Sammy's balled his fists up unconsciously. Dean didn't like the aggressive stance the kid was taking with him. Normally if Sam started getting too big for his britches, Dean wouldn't hesitate to take him down a peg, but this wasn't the usual bought of whiny bitchiness. Every little thing seemed to frustrate the kid lately. He seemed almost as bad as when he was hopped up on Demon blood, except Dean knew he wasn't playing that game again. He'd been watching Sam pretty closely and didn't see any of the signs of blood addiction on him anymore. 

Bobby John could feel the tension in the room and started whining softly. He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked on them for comfort. Dean bounced the baby gently. He didn't like the idea of pummeling the crap out of Sam in front of Bobby J. Or in front of Cas, for that matter. 

“Yeah, really,” he said instead, trying to be somewhat diplomatic. “Me and Bobby J. here went back to his mom's house while you were out getting me the wrong kind of cookies.” Dean raised a brow in the brown grocery bag's direction. “I found her day planner. Kid was supposed to get his booster shots soon, so might as well take him out and get them done now, right?”

Sam's mouth twisted in a grimace. “Booster shots?”

The baby whined again.

Castiel surprised Dean by slipping his arms around Bobby John and pulling him out of Dean's arms. He held the baby tightly, gently rocking him, and Bobby J.'s distress turned to coos of enchantment. 

“Sam, come on,” Dean said, trying to sound reasonable. “What do we know about this kid, or any of the others that went missing?”

“We know he's a shape shifter,” Sam snapped, “and that he's a hell of a lot of trouble for us. Dump him with Samuel and let's get back to work, all right, Dean? We don't have time for this crap.”

“You want us to do our jobs, Sammy? Fine, then let's do our jobs. The kid's got a doctor's appointment coming up and we can probably find out something about him from the doctor's records. Unless you magically got a lead or something while you were out buying Oreos.”

Sam shot a disgusted look at the baby, then back at Dean. “Seriously, Dean, we don't have time for you to get attached to the case. And that –“ Sam jabbed a finger at Bobby John, “ – is a case, whether it's a baby or not. 

“Would either of you like to explain the situation to me?” Cas asked mildly. 

“No,” the Winchesters said in unison.

“Look, Sam,” Dean continued, running right over anything Sam might have said, “we don't have any good leads on what anyone wants with the kid, right? You just want to hand this whole thing off to Samuel, fine, but let me see what I can find at the kid's pediatrician before you leave him to the sharks, okay?”

Sam threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. “Fine, whatever.” He dug through the grocery sack and pulled out the Double Stuffed Oreos, only to have the package yanked from his hands. “Dean!”

“Hey, you're the one who couldn't find Mrs. Smith cookies.” Dean cracked open the package and flopped onto his bed. He held out the opened package to Castiel. “Want one, Cas?”

Cas politely helped himself to a cookie and nibbled on it thoughtfully.

Dean, meanwhile, split two cookies in half. He ate each of the dry sides individually, then pressed the cream centers together, creating his own quadruple stuffed cookies, which he fit entirely in his mouth.

Sam, looking unimpressed, dumped out the few remaining items in the sack before fishing through the loose change on the bedside table. “I'm getting a soda. Want one?”

“Nope,” Dean said, though around the mouthful of cookie it sounded more like “eeoff.” 

Sammy looked slightly disgusted. Dean counted that as a win. As Sam stepped out, Cas said, “Would you mind getting one for me?”

“Whatever.” Sam slammed the door a little harder than necessary.

Dean listened silently for a moment to make sure his brother's footsteps were retreating from the door before looking at Castiel. “Tell me that wasn't weird,” he said, hoping that Cas saw the same problems Dean did.

Castiel met his gaze evenly. “That isn't Sam.”

Dean swallowed his cookies hard.


	2. Sounds Pretty Frightening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently chaper 2 is "under construction." I am still hard at work on it, but am posting for your entertainment and to see if everyone is enjoying.

"What the hell do you mean that's not Sam?"

Dean debated between going for the salt and the holy water. A hand on his shoulder stopped him mid-flight toward his “work” knapsack. “No, wait.”

“Wait?” Dean looked at him over his shoulder. “You just said -"

Cas sighed and shifted the baby higher up onto his hip. “This isn't an impostor, and Sam is neither possessed by a demon, nor being ridden by a vengeful spirit. Likewise, there is no taint of Lucifer in him. There's no supernatural explanation for your brother's behavior, as far as I can tell.”

Dean fidgeted. "So what does that mean? "

Bobby John burbled at Cas and fussed with the collar of the archangel's trench coat. Cas shifted him to the opposite hip and petted the baby's sparse hair.

Dean tugged on the opposite collar, bringing Cas' attention back to him. “Cas, man, don't say shit like, 'that ain't your brother,' unless you want me going bat-crap crazy and getting the salt, okay? You damn well better start explaining!”

"That's just it - I don't _know_ what's happened to him. I should have been able to receive his prayers over the last year. Something is blocking him, maybe. Or else he was lying about praying to me."

"Lying? He was totally pissed at you for ignoring him. That don't sound like he was lying to me."

"Was he angry? He did sound angry, but it didn't feel like he was angry. As a matter of fact, I haven't felt any serious emotion off your brother once since he entered the room. Which means that if he's lying, he's doing a remarkable job. He's gotten unnaturally good at supressing his emotions."

Still feeling naked without a weapon in hand, Dean sank back down on his own bed. He looked morosely at the open package of cookies, no longer interested in them.

“Wipe your mouth,” Castiel instructed. Dean wiped the back of his hand against his lips; it came away black with crumbs. “I don't know if I can isolate the problem, but I'll try when he comes back. "

"Damn straight you're gonna try." Dean looked up sharply when the door opened again. 

Sam still held himself stiffly, but the hostility in his face had smoothed out into a completely neutral mask, without a hint of emotion in his eyes. "Here," he said, and tossed a can at Castiel.

Cas' eyes widened as the can flew toward him, both arms bound up in carrying Bobby John. Dean reached up an easily snagged the can before it could smack either Cas or the baby. 

Cas freed a hand to take the can from Dean with a mumbled thank-you. He inspected the can for a moment. "What is 'Fresca?'"

"Fifty cents cheaper than Coke," Sam said, cracking open his twenty ounce bottle and taking a long pull before setting it down on the bedside table. "So, we ready to go yet? Samuel texted me again - he really wants to see the kid."

"No, Sam," Dean said, "you've been a freaking spaz since you came crawling out of the cage, and it's getting worse. Cas sees it, too. Nobody's going anywhere until we figure thus crap out."

"Oh, geez, Dean, can we not do this?" Sam flashed a glare at his brother as he tried to take the baby away from Cas. The archangel refused to relinquish the little skin changer, actively taking a step backward. "Don't you start, Cas. The kid's needs to go."

From one blink to the next, Cas was on the other side of the room, gently bouncing Bobby J. as he started fussing. Apparently the kid didn't like Angel Express any more than Dean did. He gave the kid props for that, and winced in sympathy as the baby gave a huge belch. Dean crossed his fingers that the poor little guy wouldn't end up constipated. 

He looked at his brother, not liking the belligerent posture Sam assumed. "I don't think so, Sammy. You're acting like a freak and I wanna know why."

"Dean, I feel fine. Better than fine!" Despite the irritation clearly in his voice, Dean couldn't detect it in Sam's eyes. It was like nothing touched Sam inside. Dean had seen corpses with more emotion in their eyes than Sam had since he came barging back into Dean's life.

Dean wanted to press the point, feeling vindicated by Castiel's agreement that Sam wasn't acting like himself. A hand on his shoulder held him back. "Dean, you said something about booster shots." Cas' strong hand pulled Dean back from his brother. "Do we need to go now?" 

"I said nobody leaves -" He cut himself off, seeing the intense look Castiel was giving him. The angel's eyes narrowed slightly, indicating he wanted to talk without Sam interrupting.

"Dean," Sam started, but his brother interrupted.

"You know what? Cas is right. Kid needs his vaccines, right?" He drew himself up to his own, not inconsiderable, full height, and gave Sam a wide grin and a wink. "And hey, you get to take that nap you were talking about, right?" Do you want to fight over this, Sam? Dean thought, his posture asking the question for him.

For a moment, Dean thought Sam was going to take him up on the offer, but then his face melted into that neutral mask again. "Whatever, Dean." He went back to his soda and flopped into one of the ugly hotel chairs. "I really don't care."

That's the first honest thing you've said to me today, Sammy, Dean thought. Aloud, he said, "Cool. After that I might take Cas and Bobby John out for ice cream."

Sam swallowed about a third of the bottle at once and shrugged. "You get to explain to Samuel why we didn't bring him the kid."

Dean snagged his jacket and the holster he used to keep his gun at the small of his back. "You do realize we don't work for Samuel, right?" Armed and wearing his jacket, he held the door for Cas, who for once didn't bother to fly himself and the baby out to the car. Castiel seemed quite happy to let Dean escort him out to the Impala and help him in with his little burden.

**Author's Note:**

> Ch. 1 Title - "Struck By Lightning" - is taken from Barenaked Ladies, ODDS ARE.
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoy my work!


End file.
